Crimson Beginnings
by hybrid2
Summary: It's a good chunk of Vincent's life. Completed
1. What's that metal thing?

I don't own any of the characters, I'm just messing with their minds a bit, and that's all right, right?  
  
  
Short and scrawny, the small, black-haired child dashed through the alleyways, trying to avoid the soldiers running behind him. His bare feet sloshed through who knew what kind of muck as he ran. Turning corners, dodging animals, ducking under low beams, and gasping for breath, the boy cradled his prize in his arms, close to his chest.  
  
-I didn't realize they'd be so possessive of a simple chunk of metal!- One more corner revealed a high wall that the boy just barely managed not to run into head first. He tucked the hunk of steel into the remains of his shirt, hoping that the tie would be secure enough. Then he jumped upon the tin cans full of trash, mercifully they had their lids on, using them as stepping blocks to reach the top of the wall. Once he reached it, he hoisted himself up and over and as far as the men chasing him were concerned, he'd disappeared. 


	2. Where'd you get a name like Valentine?

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Hiding in an abandoned pipe, the small boy peered closely at the metal object in his hand. Part of it was round, elongated, and hollow. The back of the metal tube was attached to more metal, that was vaguely shaped to fit within someone's hand. He wrapped his right hand around the object to fit with the curve, and saw a small piece of metal on the very back that looked similar to a hook. Turning it slowly, he saw another hook-like piece of metal just above his index finger that had yet another metal bar partitioning it from the rest. Blinking, the boy settled his index finger on the bar. Just as he set his finger on it, a sudden noise caused him to jerk to attention, which pulled the metal bar, and a loud noise made the boy jump even further. He looked at the source of the first noise, and saw an adult holding his leg, while blood coursed over his hand, through the digits, and his eyes were wide in pain and shock.  
  
The noise also brought over other adults, and this time the boy could not run. The pipe he'd skittered into had been a safe position earlier because no one could sneak up on him from the other side, as it was blocked, but now, he could not escape for that very same reason. The adults cautiously crawled up to him through the pipe, and he edged to the back wall, with the metal object clutched tightly in his hand. One of the men wrapped a rope around his ankle, and started to pull on it, dragging him out of the pipe inch by inch, as he squirmed and kicked, squealed, and screamed in resistance. The object was forgotten as he tried not to be pulled from the pipe.  
  
Upon reaching the lip, he grabbed tightly to its surface, and kicked wildly with his legs, screaming all the while. His screams were in vain, as these men were the law enforcement of the sector, and all of the other citizens were cowering in their homes. Shortly after he reached the lip of the pipe, one of the uniformed men walked up to the squirming youth, and pressed nerves on the back of his neck, causing the boy to fall unconscious. One of the smaller men crawled into the pipe and retrieved the gun.  
  
~*~  
  
Upon waking, the boy groaned, his head hurt, his ankle hurt, his arms hurt, and if he were one to exaggerate, he'd say his everything hurt, but he wasn't the sort of person to do that. He slowly sat up on the cramped bed, and looked around. It wasn't a jail cell, he could tell that much. First off, the room was too large, and besides that, there were no bars anywhere. There weren't any windows either, but the lack of bars was more important to him.  
  
The floor was one of those crazy patterned linoleum sorts. Cheery colors attempting to make the room's occupant calm down, but all they really did was make him more nervous than ever. The walls were the usual white. Why no one ever got the point and painted them a sensible color like blue, brown or even black was beyond him. But then again who'd think a street urchin would know anything of what's reasonable?  
  
One wall had a framed object hanging. It looked like some kind of painting, or perhaps a certification of some kind. Another wall held hanging plants of some sort, and a third merely had a large chair backed up to it. The fourth was aligned with the bed, and at that point the door that was next to the picture/certificate opened.  
  
A large man stepped through, followed by one that was as round as he was tall. Behind him was a slender woman, and then a frightening old man in a white coat. Finally another man in a white coat walked through the door and closed it behind him. The boy scooted to the corner of the bed that coincided with the corner of the room, and curled up into a ball as small as he could.  
  
"Well," the fat man snorted, "You certainly were a hard one to catch. You evaded twenty fully grown men, five SOLDIER third class, Four SOLDIER second class and one SOLDIER first class, as well as eight troopers and two TURKS. Be proud of yourself child. No one's ever done that before."  
  
"Not to mention shooting a first class SOLDIER in the leg without looking when he made a noise that no one else heard," the woman crouched in front of the boy, attempting to comfort him, "Honey what's your name?"  
  
The boy shuddered and shook his head, not looking directly at any of them.  
  
"You will tell us your name boy!" the tall man growled.  
  
"Hush!" the woman snapped, "We don't need you scaring him silly Fenton!"  
  
"I still say you should let me perform a few experiments on the boy, to find out how fast he is, how smart, how he could hear a fully trained SOLDIER trying to not be heard..." the grimy man in a white coat smarmed.  
  
"Hojo," the other white-coated man groaned, "That will do more harm than Col. Fenton getting his enraged hands on the child."  
  
"I'm not a child," the boy spoke through his arms and legs.  
  
"How old are you?" the woman crouched even lower, to try to meet his eyes.  
  
"'m fourteen," he peeked at her, then quickly looked at Fenton and Hojo.  
  
"Well, you certainly don't look it," the fat man grinned, "Maybe you would do well in SOLDIER. Eh, Fenton?"  
  
"Not likely," the man grouched, "He's too skinny, too short, and too girly."  
  
"At least I'm smarter than YOU!" the boy yelled. He then blinked and cowered in the corner even more fiercely.  
  
"Well, lad," the taller man in a white coat pulled his hands from his pockets, "It seems you aren't just refusing to talk, so why won't you tell us your name?"  
  
"Don't really have one. I think I might have been named Vincent, but my family died when I was little and I haven't had much cause to answer to it since, so I'm not sure," the boy shrugged, "Not that it matters."  
  
"Well," the woman stood, "We'll settle it. Your name is Vincent, and since this day was once called Valentine's day, long, long ago, we'll call you Vincent Valentine."  
  
"I don't like it," the boy wrinkled his nose. 


	3. Understanding

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Well, too bad," the fat man cackled, "I think it has poetic justice. You are named after a massacre thousands of years old."  
  
"What has that to do with me getting caught by you freaks?" Vincent glowered.  
  
"That's the irony of it," the fat man laughed some more, "hehe. Well, back to business. Kid, there aren't many who can hear a SOLDIER who's TRYING to be quiet."  
  
"So why won't you let me test him?" the greasy old man whined.  
  
"Testing and experimenting are two different things," Fenton snapped, "We'll let you test him, Hojo, with Gast's supervision, to find out how he could hear Gearson, and to keep you in line."  
  
"WHAT?" Hojo yelped, "No! The fool will only interfere, and impede with my discoveries."  
  
"And you will only terrify the boy to the point that he will refuse to cooperate!" the woman spat.  
  
"Stepping on a metal pipe has a completely different result than stepping on dirt. And if you walk wearing heavy boots, it only adds to it," Vincent glared at Fenton, "you should train your soldiers to walk quietly on ANY surface, in ANY terrain, under ANY circumstances, and not to underestimate normal humans."  
  
"Good point," Fenton finally seemed to lose the angry expression on his face, "Ever thought of becoming a SOLDIER?"  
  
"No way in hell am I that crazy!" Vincent sat up straight, "Life expectancy for a SOLDIER is shorter than that for even those of us who live on the street!"  
  
"Where do you pick up on statistics like those?" the woman raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You hear them from adults who have it in their heads that 'cause you're a kid, you don't know nothing, you can't hear nothing, and you won't learn nothing," Vincent snarled.  
  
"Amazing that you can retain such knowledge," Hojo rubbed his chin, "Perhaps we should test your intelligence as well."  
  
"I won't let you anywhere near me, you greasy old fart!" Vincent kicked out with one foot, connected with Hojo's solar plexus, and sent the old man across the room, where he crashed into the wall, and fell to the floor; winded.  
  
"Well, we're going to have to come up with something for him to do," the fat man grumbled.  
  
"Why don't we put him in that experimental division, dear?" the woman crossed her arms and began to pace the room, "There are few enough of them that they won't give him too much trouble. He might even learn something from them that would be useful, and they could certainly do with learning how to tell the difference between people walking by on the dirt ground and those trying to walk into a steel pipe where you are hiding. Not to mention he might be able to show them how to move as fast as he did."  
  
"It's called running," the boy smarted off, "You do it when you're scared for your life."  
  
The woman glanced sharply at him, then continued, "We were thinking of giving them various jobs that might be more dangerous than the typical Shinra employee could or would do, so why not?"  
  
"I like the idea," the fat man tucked a finger under his chin, "and since all of those already there, like Vincent Valentine," emphasizing the second name, "have to do as we order them to or face the consequences of their actions that got them into the division in the first place, it's perfect!"  
  
"Well," Fenton glared in Hojo's direction, "I still think you ought to teach all of them how to fight, that way, in the course of their job descriptions, they will be able to fend off maddened citizens of Midgar if they must."  
  
"Or just deal with crazy old coots," the woman muttered under her breath.  
  
~They're just like all the other adults. They realize I've got some intelligence, but they still don't think enough of it to realize that I can hear and understand everything they're saying. I may not understand all of the background issues, but I know what they're talking about in general at least.~ Vincent snorted, "You all done trying to talk over my head?"  
  
The fat man glanced at him in shock, then settled his gaze on the boy's face squarely, "I'm the president of this company, from now on, you are one of my employees, and I WILL pay you, but only if you earn it to my satisfaction. See to it that you don't back talk to me, or you WILL be punished for it. You are now a part of my experimental division of employees, and will take on any job you're asked to. You, as of right now, have NO ranks whatsoever, and will show respect to everyone else here. Is that understood?"  
  
"I show respect to those who earn it," Vincent met the man's eyes evenly, "It's something you learn fast when you're on your own, don't demand what you can reciprocate or earn."  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this in the same time frame or jump ahead. If I do jump, it will only be about a year or so, maybe five at the most. It's been a while since I last played this game through so I don't remember a lot of things like: Shinra's first name (if it was ever stated), what happened to Shinra's wife (though most seem to think he had her killed), or all of the division and division heads' names (or if TURKS is an acronym), so any help or clues on all of this will be useful. Um,... at the risk of bribery, could someone please tell me some of these answers? I'll try to write a story for you in return, but first you have to help me. If you tell me the details of the story you want, I can tell you whether I think I can. (Now I sound like the Little Engine that could...) 


	4. Passing tests

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
Two Years pass  
  
  
"I hate this, I hate this, I HATE THIS!" the rambunctious red haired teen ran as fast as his legs would carry him, "You'd think that 'cause nothin's goin on, they'd forget about these trials!"  
  
"Dream on Ruvel!" a blonde teen dashed past him, "These aren't to test war worthiness, but to test us for whether or not we can do our job!"  
  
"But how do they expect normal people like him to keep up?" the third, one with medium brown hair pointed backwards at a short, black haired youth running behind them, "He's no SOLDIER."  
  
"He ain't never gonna be neither," the redhead grinned, and suddenly dropped a piece of his armor, "oops!"  
  
Instead of being hit by the metal, and knocked off his feet, the boy swerved to one side, caught the debris, and then continued running while carrying it.'  
  
"Holy-!" the blonde opened his eyes wide as he looked behind himself. He missed the tree that was in his path, and therefore ran smack into it.  
  
The black haired boy dropped the armor chunk next to the blonde, knowing that he was friends with the redhead.  
  
"Well, that was pathetic," the brown haired teen mumbled to his red-haired running mate, "Try something else."  
  
"I can't, short of dropping my sword at him," red countered, "And that'll not only get me into trouble for dropping my weapon, and being unarmed in the next section, but it's kind of a dead giveaway!"  
  
"Then I will," brown smirked, and flung his shield in the air, then ducked as the wind caught it and sent it boomeranging back at him. Since he was not in the path, it continued, seeming to head straight for the black-haired youth behind them.  
  
Seeing the obstacle, the boy ducked to the ground and rolled under it, standing at the end of it.  
  
"There's never been a non-SOLDIER who's passed this first part before, and I ain't about to let him become the first!" red growled.  
  
"It's not as though you have a choice," the boy had caught up with them, and using his smaller stature to his advantage, slipped between the two taller runners. To add insult to injury, he turned around to look at them while running backwards, waved, winked, and laughed. He then turned back around to face proper and took off running faster than before.  
  
"What?" the redhead blinked, "How in the Planet did a normal kid get so blasted fast?"  
  
Upon reaching the checkpoint, the boy grinned at the timekeeper, and the short, older man in a dark blue suit.  
  
"Well, Vincent," the man tried to keep the smile off of his face, but failed, "I have to admit that you proved your skills as a materia user are sufficient."  
  
The man on the other side of the makeshift racetrack checkpoint glowered, "Those three goofballs."  
  
"What's wrong Fenton?" Vincent looked back at the two runners who were approaching quickly, "Are you more angry at the fact that I got here first, or that they're such pricks?"  
  
"As SOLDIERS, they should not hold such beliefs," Fenton glowered at both the redhead and the brown haired teen as they crossed the checkpoint line, "You two, and when he wakes, Gevron as well, are ordered to kitchen duty until further notice. Perhaps that will teach you that just because you have Mako running through your veins doesn't make you a step above other humans."  
  
"The only difference between you is that you are prone to madness," a doctor pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, "than most. Aside from the obvious strength increase and the like."  
  
"But why did we have to run it with a feeb like him?" the redhead didn't know when to shut his mouth.  
  
"Because, Ruvel, he's testing for mastery of materia use, and your foolhardy actions could have interfered with this testing, so be glad that you didn't or you'd have gotten worse as punishment!"  
  
"So what's next?" Vincent grinned at the two teens, "You wanna see some more spells? I can cast Fire too!"  
  
"Vincent!" the man in blue scolded, "Don't give away all of your secrets and skills!"  
  
"I didn't say it was the only other spell I know," Vincent grinned even wider, "Just that I know it!"  
  
"I think we should just head on to the next stage," the doctor scribbled on his paperwork.  
  
"Fine," the man in blue nodded, "Ruval, you and Vincent will spar. But so he stands a chance, you will allow him to cast haste and barrier on himself. Then you two will fight, to see just how strong he is. Don't hold back otherwise, we do have a doctor nearby, and some other materia users nearby."  
  
Vincent shook his arms out, pulled a gun from his a holster on his waist and chanted out the spells that corresponded to the ones named. The gun handle lit up briefly in two different spots as the materias in the slots each lit up in response to the spells. As soon as the spells took effect, Vincent nodded once again.  
  
Ruval, in the meantime, reached over to one of three buster swords stacked on the ground nearby, and started to swing it around as a warm-up. When Vincent nodded, he quickly swung at the boy's stomach in a wide, slow arc.  
  
Vincent jumped back, and almost immediately raised his gun to fire at Ruval, who hurriedly brought the blade up to deflect the bullet. In the same motion, he swung the sword back down in an arc meant to slice at Vincent's legs, but the boy no longer stood there. He was now dashing behind Ruval, reloading his gun, and aiming for Ruval's sword-hand. The gun fired, and Ruval pulled his hand back as quickly as he could, and only got his fingers grazed, the stinging reminded him that he still had to hold onto the sword.  
  
Vincent, by this time had reloaded again, and stood directly behind Ruval, aiming at his back. This time, when he fired, all the other boy could do was turn away, and hope it didn't hit anything vital. The bullet lodged in his right shoulder, causing him to yell in pain, and switch hands.  
  
Vincent blinked; he hadn't counted on an ambidextrous opponent. A slight tingling in the back of his mind told him that the barrier had run out, but he didn't even try to recast it, as he was too busy dodging the latest swing of the other boy's weapon.  
  
Ruval grinned madly; he knew that the barrier had worn off, and in a matter of seconds, so would the haste. He'd win easily at that point, so he knew the other would begin to be desperate. Another swing, and Vincent was all but backed against one of the many trees lining the path that had, a short time ago, been a racing track. The darker boy rolled on the ground trying to get away from the taller youth and his hand's breadth sword. Upon regaining his feet, he fired one more time. To the shock of all involved, he struck the other boy dead on in the fleshy part of his left arm, rendering it useless as well.  
  
"Well," Fenton was blinking wildly, "I suppose that solves it, though I never would have expected that to happen. Congratulations, Vincent, you defeated a third class SOLDIER in relative honest combat! And to you Uriah, since you seem to have a promising student in the youth."  
  
Meanwhile, Vincent collapsed to the ground in a mixture of exhaustion and shock. Amazement flooded through his mind. ~I'm still alive, I beat him, I proved my point to Master Uriah, I'm STILL alive!~ A small laugh escaped the boy's musings.  
  
"Well," Uriah looked at his student, who was just starting to show the signs of shock, "Doctor, if you would put the boy to sleep, we'll be all right."  
  
The doctor nodded and waved a hand slightly, forming the words that would put the boy to sleep. When it contacted his mind, the Vincent jolted, suddenly aware, and then his upper body sank the rest of the way to the ground, stopped only by Uriah's hand under the back of his head. 


	5. Room mates with pranks

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
  
Vincent opened his eyes and sat up. Searching out his Mentor, he noticed that he was resting sideways on a black upholstered couch that rested against one wall of the room. Knowing where he was allowed him to quickly find his target. Upon finding the older man standing with two other men, he glared balefully at him, letting him know that Vincent considered the sleep spell to be a dirty trick.  
  
"You were going hysterical," Uriah responded, "So we had to do something. For your information, aside from the kitchen cleanup, that third class SOLDIER is currently undergoing severe retraining. His friends are as well, but to a lesser degree. It seems that Fenton is fed up with his SOLDIERs thinking they are above the rest of humanity simply because they have some Mako in their bodies."  
  
"After all the SOLDIER group was actually meant to be," the red haired of the two grinned, winding up for one of his infamous jokes, "'Super Obvious Lame-ass Dorks In Everyone's Reach!' And the prez just shortened it so no one would have to twist their tongue around all that, not to mention the fact that people are more likely to listen to a SOLDIER if they don't remember what it really meant!"  
  
Even Uriah laughed at the wise crack, "Arn, that's not what SOLDIER means, and you know it."  
  
"Yeah, but mine's a whole heck of a lot funnier than," Arn grimaced, "calling them 'Superior Overtly Dangerously Energy Infused Resources.'"  
  
"Even SOLDIER is better," the black haired man mumbled, "And it was a Shinra creation!"  
  
"Actually, Triton," Uriah frowned, "The president's wife came up with SOLDIER, after her husband piped up calling them the former."  
  
"The president is fond of pretentious names," Vincent pointed out, "Which brings about his wife's tendency to shorten them to the well-known acronyms that we all love to hate."  
  
"Yeah," Arn snickered some more, "If he had his way, their little boy would have been named something ridiculous like-"  
  
"Arn?" Vincent butted in, tongue in cheek.  
  
"Why you-" Arn snorted while he laughed with the others, "That's not fair!"  
  
"Well," Uriah walked to his desk and sat in the chair, "You were about to insult one of the rest of us."  
  
"So," Vincent sat properly on the couch, "Why are all three of you here? And why am I in here rather than my room?"  
  
"Well," Uriah hesitated, "the President decided that test would decide where you wound up. If you'd failed, you would have been one of Hojo and Gast's assistants, but since you passed, you've been given the status of junior TURK."  
  
"Not that one's really better than the other," Vincent groaned under his breath.  
  
"Since you're now one of us," Triton rolled his eyes, having heard Vincents sotto voz comment, "you'll be quartered with us. The room you used to live in is now barracks for some SOLDIER wanna be. You're now in a three-room apartment. I live in one, Arn in another, and you've got the third."  
  
"Oh," Vincent looked back and forth between his two new roommates, "I think I just got doomed to a life of pranks..."  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Yeah, ummm... Dunno what to make of that. I guess this will work. I thought of trying to finish this story, and my others that are in the air before the weekend, but I realized after about three seconds that I'd be nuts to try it. So, anyway... I made up the SOLDIER acronym, and I'm going to do the same to the TURKS, but I haven't decided quite yet how to do it. 


	6. Pink of the Day

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
  
  
~Five years pass~  
  
When he woke, Vincent fought the urge to roll over and go back to sleep. His bed was warm; the room was not. His bed was soft; the rest of the day would not be. While he was arguing with himself, small rustlings alerted him to his room mates and their imminent prank.  
  
He abruptly sat up and jumped out of the bed, shocking Arn and Triton so badly that they dropped the bucket of ice water onto their feet.  
  
"Agh!" Arn yelped.  
  
"Hey!" Triton jumped over to the nearby couch.  
  
"What," Vincent snorted, "Was I supposed to lay there and get dunked with ice water just so you could have fun?"  
  
"Actually, yeah," Arn jumped around on his feet trying to warm them back up.  
  
"You guys might want to get something to mop that up before it stains the floor like last time," Vincent suggested as he headed for the shower, "You didn't try putting powder into the shower head again, did you?"  
  
"No," Triton called out, "We learned our lesson last time."  
  
Vincent snorted under his breath. ~Yeah, right, those two? They'll always be pulling pranks, until the day they die. Just because the last time they caught Uriah rather than me..~ He inspected the showerhead, and sure enough there was a deposit of pink powder settled against the cap. Vincent sighed, and switched the head with his spare. ~I'm not stupid.~  
~  
After climbing out and drying off, Vincent replaced the shower head they'd doctored, "Okay you two, your turn." He stepped out of the cubicle, and started to get dressed.  
  
Arn rushed into the bathroom before Triton, who growled about the unfairness of it all as he wiped the water off the floor.  
  
"Actually," Vincent smirked, "You're lucky you didn't get in there first," Triton looked up, "You won't get turned pink."  
  
"Just how do you pick up on our pranks all the time?" Triton's eyes widened a fraction as he looked at the closed door, "You've only ever fallen for the room number prank, and you got us back just as good, hell, I'd say we ought to be trying to just catch up with ya in pranks."  
  
"Your stunts are unoriginal," Vincent shrugged as he buttoned the blue blazer jacket.  
  
"D'you think we oughtta be outta the room when he gets done?" Triton looked at the door again.  
  
"He turns the water up so high that he won't notice at first," Vincent nodded, "but you might want to get your own jacket on."  
  
The brown haired man quickly shoved his arms into his blue jacket. Then he headed for the door, "um... see ya," and dashed out.  
  
Vincent followed his room mate out the door, leaving their friend to discover his pinkness on his own.  
~  
Uriah fought down laughs of varying strengths as he looked at Arn's pink face, hair, and hands, and tried to keep to the business at hand, "Shinra has decided to set the three of you to guarding his wife and son while their usual bodyguards are on vacation."  
  
"Aw man," Arn mumbled, "I hate babysitting duty."  
  
"Why?" Vincent snorted, "You make the kids look mature."  
  
"Well, look at it this way man," Triton snickered, patting his friend on the shoulder, "At least you'll have an easy way of entertaining him."  
  
"Shuddup!" Arn growled.  
  
"And whose fault is it that you're pink in the first place?" Uriah finally mentioned the issue directly.  
  
"Mine," Vincent grinned, "I was the one supposed to be turned pink, but,"  
  
"As usual," Arn groaned, "He outsmarted us."  
  
"So," Triton blew at his bangs, "When do we start the official babysitting job?"  
  
"Right now," Uriah pressed the button to the secretary, sending her the signal to let the two in.  
  
A tallish woman stepped through the door, holding the hand of a five-year-old little boy. The little tyke immediately ran up to Vincent, begging to be picked up. Vincent obliged happily, as he'd always been fond of little kids... since he would never have any of his own.  
  
"Is it normal for Mister Grimm to be pink in coloration?" the woman raised her eyebrow slightly, and pushed some blonde hair behind her ear.  
  
The little boy looked over Vincent's shoulder and his eyes widened dramatically. The big man that normally had black hair now had black hair with pink chunks, and his skin was one of those sick pinks that baby girls are dressed up in. Grimacing, the boy tucked his head into Vincent's shoulder and muttered, "Eeeew, it's pink!"  
  
Vincent chuckled lightly, "Yup, and just think, that was supposed to have been me."  
  
The little boy clutched at the young man tightly, "I'm glad it wasn't. I don't like pink."  
  
"Out," Uriah grinned, "Some of us have paperwork to do."  
~*~  
  
  
  
~blinks~ That was unexpected... I'm at a loss however, as to what to have happen during the 'babysitting time'... 


	7. Leather?

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
At this point in time, the 'slums' aren't all that bad. It's kind of like there are rich neighborhoods, and poorer ones, but not as bad as it is in the game. The plate has only been there for a few years, Shinra still kind of cares about his reputation, (he does sort of have competition) and his wife wouldn't allow him to ruin the lower level anyway...  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
  
  
"It was my intention to go investigate the lower sector today," the light-haired woman pointed out, "But I realize that it's not exactly safe for Obie to go with me, so would one of you watch him, while the other two go with me?"  
  
"Sure Mrs. Shinra," Arn grinned, "Vince won't mind staying with Oberon, because the little guy doesn't like Triton, and I'm rather pink today..."  
  
"As a matter of fact," the woman smiled, "That is why I was going to suggest you watch Obie, since you're rather striking for what I wish to do. Can't very well miss a pink man, can we? And I would appreciate it if you boys would call me Kyra. If we're going to be on the lower side, I can't let the citizens know who I am, or things could get messy."  
  
Vincent set the little boy down on a chair and winked at him, "Try not to give Arn too bad a time, okay, Obie? After all, he won't mind telling you how he got pinked if you're nice to him."  
  
Arn growled something under his breath and glared at the black-haired TURK for a few seconds, then grinned, "Yeah, and I might even tell him how you came to have bangs down to your chin while the rest of your hair is so short!"  
  
As he, Kyra, and Triton walked out the door, Vincent called, "He already knows, after all, he gave me the haircut!"  
~  
  
When they reached the station of the train that would take them to the underside of the plate, Kyra pulled two sets of clothing from her handbag, "Could you two change into these? Your suits are also rather conspicuous. When you look at the outfits, I think you'll be able to figure out what is for whom."  
  
Triton took the bundle from her hands, and looked at the clothes. He pulled a few articles from it, and handed the rest to Vincent, "I'll change first, then you can. Kyra, are you going to change as well?"  
  
She shook her head, "No need. I'm wearing a long jacket right now to cover what I am wearing, but when we get off the train, you'll see," she giggled slightly.  
  
"Don't mind me while I wish I were somewhere else," Vincent muttered under his breath.  
~  
  
When Triton returned, Vincent almost didn't recognize him. After all, he'd never seen Triton in a neon green t-shirt, and white jeans. Vincent looked back down at the clothes he was expected to wear... Black shirt, and black pants, how?  
  
"Well," Triton smirked, "Go change."  
  
"Why do you have neon colors and I've got NORMAL ones?" Vincent yelped.  
  
"Because I can fake hyperactivity," Triton grinned.  
  
"What does that have to do with it?" Vincent was even more confused.  
  
"Because if I'm traveling with two young men," Kyra laughed, "I tend to ask one to behave like a stereotypical hyper teen, while the other gets the part of the also stereotyped sullen one. No one has ever seen you hyper, so... Go on, go change!"  
  
Vincent shrugged as he walked toward the men's bathroom. Once inside, he looked at the clothing again, and shuddered. Leather, yuck. 


	8. Invesitgating the Competition

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
At this point in time, the 'slums' aren't all that bad. It's kind of like there are rich neighborhoods, and poorer ones, but not as bad as it is in the game. The plate has only been there for a few years, Shinra still kind of cares about his reputation, (he does sort of have competition) and his wife wouldn't allow him to ruin the lower level anyway...  
  
  
  
Chapter 8  
  
  
Kyra glanced around impatiently. The train was about to leave, and Vincent hadn't returned. She was about to try to send Triton after him when a bundle of black leather reached her view. The person trapped in it didn't look too happy. In fact, he was positively angry.  
  
"Why leather," the black-haired man ground out, brushing one of the sections of hair that could be called bangs out of his face, "I. Hate. Leather. Do you know how many people have stopped me as I walked, just to proposition me?"  
  
Triton bit back a laugh. Even he knew, that at this point, one titter would get him into serious trouble. It was one prank that he and Arn had learned never to pull twice.  
  
"Live with it hon," Kyra turned, "We're about to miss the train."  
  
Vincent stalked behind her, indicating his tightly reined rage with each step, while managing to step with the same apparent pressure as he'd done before he'd changed.  
  
Triton cautiously followed the other two. As loud as his clothes were, at least they were comfortable. No doubt the leather fit just fine on Vincent, but one of his quirks was that he couldn't stand leather of any kind. It was some dead animal's skin, and even after having killed a few dozen people in the last five years, he still couldn't stand the feel of dead flesh. Not that Vincent was a vegetarian mind you, in fact, he preferred to eat steaks, especially ones that were almost raw.  
  
When they reached their designated seats, Triton and Vincent flanked Kyra, wedging her between them. Triton quickly fell into his role, and started chatting up the person nearest to him. The young blonde girl blinked madly, and blushed. She kept sneaking glances at Vincent, as though trying to work up the nerve to say something to him. A little demon of perversitude possessed Triton, and he quickly told the girl that she should say hi to Vince, and call him 'vampy.'  
  
The girl blinked and then stood. She walked to just in front of Vincent, then shyly greeted him. When his eyes widened in shock, she seemed about to run off. Vincent glanced at Triton for a split second, and then joined in on the joke. He scooted into Kyra's side, forcing her to force Triton over, and allowed the girl to sit next to him. The two of them quickly struck up a conversation.  
  
Kyra fumed quietly. She'd meant for Vincent to be the reclusive one, and that had been the only reason the black clothing had been leather. She knew he hated it, but for those two impling boys to turn the joke back on her...  
  
The train stopped, and the trio quickly disembarked.  
  
"I can't believe you two!" Kyra ranted, "You were under orders, even if indirect to-"  
  
"Sorry," Vincent grabbed one of her arms, and Triton the other, "But we can't talk about this in public, so loud."  
  
This mollified her slightly, "Well, have you two decided who will be the sulking teen and who's the happy-go-lucky one?"  
  
Vincent snorted, "I. Hate. Leather. And you know it. I only started talking to the girl because Triton told her to call me 'vampy.'"  
  
"What has that to do with it?" Kyra glared, "Do you bit your targets or something?"  
  
"No," Triton snorted, "We wouldn't let him do anything like that. He never knew his father, so he's always trying to find the old deadbeat. He figures that if he tests the blood of every person he finds dead, or has to kill, he might actually find a relative."  
  
"Why the dead ones?" Kyra blinked, "Even if they do turn up related to you, you can't get anything out of them?"  
  
"Most of them are identifiable," Vincent shrugged, "That means I can trace their names to families. If I ever encountered a relative, I'd know who my family was at least. And if they aren't related, sometimes just letting them know that one of their number no longer walks among the living is as good as them having the body to bury."  
  
"Well," Kyra snorted, "I don't want you taking any samples here," she turned, "I can't afford the questions that will bring about."  
  
Vincent and Triton shrugged as well, in unison, then followed her to her the building that she wanted to explore.  
  
For one of Shinra Inc.'s few competitors, Delamb Energy was rather dilapidated. Kyra, at first, couldn't figure out why, but when they walked into the lobby, they saw that the only reason Delamb was competition was because they cut costs by cutting back on the building's repairs.  
  
The doors, once you could get them open, screamed loudly as they were pushed. And when they closed, they repeatedly caught on jagged parts of the floor, creating a bouncing sound as the door jerked to a stop at each catch, then restarted its journey to closure. The rug that traveled from just beyond the doors to the other end of the building was ratty and holey. The desks of the workers were falling, literally, to pieces. Some desks had as many as three makeshift legs, while others were makeshift desks in their entirety.  
  
The walls were a uniform, nondescript, gray and had water stains traveling from the ceiling to the rugs. There were no paintings on the walls, not even any blinds over the windows. And the lighting was in the form of a large fireplace at the back wall, and a centralized light fixture.  
  
Vincent shuddered, as Kyra gasped slightly, and Triton just looked at the floor.  
  
"Impressive, eh?" a gray-bearded man in a graphite colored suit, "Bet you never seen anytin like it."  
  
"You're quite right," Kyra looked about the room once more, wide-eyed.  
  
"You here t get yr boys jobs?" the old man cursorily looked at the two young men, and then turned his eyes back to Kyra, "I can't do anytin for t scrawny one, but t'other one will make a good salesman."  
  
"What?" Kyra glanced at him in shock, "A salesman?"  
  
"Yeah," the man laughed, sounding like a donkey's bray, "The skinny one can't 'sell' for anytin cause he cain't beat the tar outta the folks dat don wanna buy my products, but t'other one would be jus perfect for intimidatin them."  
  
"I do believe I have changed my mind, thank you," Kyra made to leave the building.  
  
"Aw," the man snorted, "don get like dat, I'm sure I kin find somtin for t'toothpick. But dey oughtta be glad fr a job like I'll give em. Dey sure as meteor won get one from dat pig Shinra."  
  
"Aw, come on old man," Triton grinned, "You don't really think I couldn't get a job at Shinra, do you? I mean, if I can sell your stuff, I could make a great SOLDIER!"  
  
"Nah," the old man waved a hand dismissively, "That takes anodder level of strength entirely. Besides, you're too smart!"  
  
Vincent snorted.  
  
"What kid, ya jealous dat yr broder's gonna git a job an you won't?" the old man glanced at Vincent out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Vincent paused. It almost seemed as though the old man was trying to get one or the other of the two young men to get angry and lose his temper. What his reason was, Vincent couldn't figure out, but he would, given a few minutes.  
  
"Not in the slightest," Vincent decided to show the old man what intimidation really was, "But I doubt you'll stand much chance against Shinra for long, after all, he's at least got walls that aren't eroding away as we speak. And if the Health Departments got wind of the way you have this place,.." he shrugged, "I can only imagine the fines."  
  
The old man laughed, "Well, I guess he does know how t' make t'reats. He ain't intimidatin' but he sure do know how t sound smart."  
  
"Hmph," Kyra snorted, "I certainly have seen all I wanted to see," she stalked out of the building, "Come on, Triton, Vincent!"  
  
As he turned, Vincent noticed the old man's face paling as he matched the details of hair, and name to the identities of two TURKS. He grinned as he left the building, "Have a nice life, Dekim!"  
~  
  
"Why did you do that!" Kyra rounded on Vincent as soon as he stepped out of the doors.  
  
"What," Vincent snorted, "All but tell him who we were?"  
  
"Yes!" she glared at him.  
  
"Because he'd figured it out for himself," Triton stepped in, "When you used our names."  
  
"Oh dear," Kyra brought a hand to her face, "Then we should get out of here quickly, shouldn't we?"  
  
"Probably," Vincent snorted, "Since he's already called out a few thugs of his own." 


	9. Get your mind out of the Sewer!

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 9  
  
  
The two young men stood at each side of the blonde woman. They were obviously out to protect her, even though neither looked like he could even recognize a weapon, much less wield any.  
  
The thugs, however, knew who these two were, and accordingly, acted with caution. They approached the two young men as groups, rather than individuals, knowing that both were armed with at least two different projectile-firing weapons, about four different bladed objects, and who knew how many blunt ones. That wasn't even counting their own hand-to-hand skills. If they kept the two focused on the main group, they hoped to surprise them with the trio sneaking up on them. But, TURKS are trained to catch the footsteps of approaching possible foes.  
  
Triton grinned wildly, and jumped at the group in front of him. The thugs weren't expecting to fight a madman, just a TURK, and so were accordingly shocked to find that this apparent nut had slashed through half of their number before they'd even registered that he now held a razor-sharp Bowie knife in each hand. The remaining men were just as shocked to hear the loud reports of a hand-held gun blasting from the other man's hands. These felled the three that had been sneaking up in the same amount of time it took for the first TURK to slit the throats of half of the frontal assault group.  
  
The woman wasn't helpless either. She pulled her heels off of her feet, and started to jab the stiletto tips of the heels into the thugs, doing almost as much damage as the other two.  
  
After finishing off the men send by Dekim Galamb, the three stood still for a few seconds. Vincent then promptly set about moving the bodies back into the allies that they'd slithered from in the first place.  
  
"How does he do that?" Kyra was rather shocked to see the slight form of the twenty-year-old hoisting up the dead bodies of men who had to be at least twice his weight, "Shouldn't he have broken his back?"  
  
"Shhh," Triton joked, "He doesn't know that, but he might if he hears that it should break his back."  
  
"That's all of them," Vincent stepped from the shadows, and brushed his bangs out of his face, "Shall we go now? Or are you still joking around about how I defy the laws of physics only because I don't know I do it?"  
  
Triton grinned at his friend and room mate, "Aw, come on, Vince, I'm just havin a little fun!"  
  
"We have to get out of the area as quickly as possible," Vincent shrugged off the playful plea, "So we don't have to explain Mrs. Shinra's presence to the police."  
  
Kyra nodded, "Then let us hurry, I rather miss my son."  
~  
  
When they reached the train station this time, they had trouble boarding. Apparently, even though trench coated women walking with a neon clad teen and a leather clad one are acceptable, those same boys walking up with a woman in a tight black short skirt, and a low-cut top that bared her midriff was not. And Kyra had lost her trench coat in the scuffle.  
  
"Ugh," Kyra growled, "How are we going to get back home?"  
  
Triton shook his head. He'd lived on the upper plate for as far back as he could remember.  
  
"Well," Vincent spoke, looking up towards the ceiling, "If you don't mind sneaking up through air ducts, and possibly through a sewer or two..." he left the option open to them.  
  
"I'm all for it," Triton was certainly the adventurous type, he always got himself lost or into trouble for exploring places that even his rank as a TURK didn't clear him for.  
  
"I suppose," Kyra nodded, "Fine, so long as we don't come out of this smelling like shit water, I don't care."  
  
"You won't wind up smelling of eau de toilet if you don't trip and fall," Vincent grinned, "I promise. But I can't promise you won't trip and fall. It's also better not to ask what you'll be in danger of tripping on."  
  
Triton closed his mouth as Vincent anticipated what his question would be, "So, I guess we follow you now, Vince."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I honestly have no clue where this will end, or how long it will take to do so... I'm just as curious as you are. 


	10. Vincent's job is a little on the risque ...

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 10  
  
  
  
"This place stinks!" Kyra whined, "I can't believe how badly it reeks!"  
  
Vincent snorted and continued threading his way through the refuse, twisting and weaving his steps to avoid the worst of the filth covering the cement of the sewers.  
  
"Of course you don't," Triton laughed, "You've never had to walk through this part of Midgar before."  
  
"With any luck," Kyra growled, "I never will again. Obie will not want to be anywhere near his mother until after she takes a shower! Hell, I don't want to be anywhere near me until after I shower!"  
  
"Quit making so much noise," Vincent hissed, "There are creatures that inhabit these tunnels, so don't make so much noise. You'll call their attention to us!"  
  
"What kind of creature would be mad enough to live here?" Kyra yelled.  
  
"Shut up!" Vincent growled, "That probably woke up a shining example of a sewer inhabitant, that will be grumpy and want to rip us apart!"  
  
"No kidding," Triton looked behind Vincent with an expression of petrification, "That thing behind you looks mighty hungry."  
  
Vincent turned, "Oh just great, just dandy!" he glared at the creature just as darkly as it glared at him, "It's just angry, these creatures live here because they find human waste to be appetizing. And we woke it from its nap. Our best bet is to either run or try to kill it."  
  
Deciding that the little things in front of it had chattered long enough, the creature took a mad swipe at Vincent with one of its hideously large claws. It would have hit, if Triton hadn't jerked its hand off balance by picking up a large stick that lay around and smacking at the claw. The creature shifted its focus to Triton, and took another swipe. This time, its actions were halted by Vincent taking a shot at its head.  
  
The two young men repeated their pattern of actions, hitting it to change its focus repeatedly. Finally, the maddened monster looked at Kyra, who had, up to this point, had not taken part, and tried to rip her head off.  
  
Vincent quickly shoved her to the ground, where she landed in a pile of goop better left unidentified. Triton dashed up to is one more time, and stabbed it with one of his knives, and then rammed the other into one of its eyes.  
  
The creature screamed shrilly, and jerked away from Triton. It backed into the lower section of the sewer, where it fell into the nearly stagnant river of mush that rested there.  
  
"I am not going after my knives," Triton shook his head, "They aren't worth it."  
  
Vincent snorted, and helped Kyra stand, not mentioning the fact that she'd fallen into some rather ripe sludge, "But it would actually be better for you to get it, as that particular creature feeds off of metal objects."  
  
"What?!" Triton yelped, jumping down into the river of dross to fetch his knives.  
  
"That's why I knew we weren't in danger of being its dinner," Vincent grimaced, "It just wanted our metal objects for snacks."  
  
"So, what, is it gonna regenerate?" Triton hopped back onto the upper level, "or something?"  
  
"Sort of," Vincent rolled his eyes, "But I'd rather not be around to see it."  
  
"I want to go home," Kyra spat, "I want to take a shower, and most of all, I want to get out of this shithole!"  
~  
  
"Finally," Kyra breathed a huge sigh of relief, then coughed as the stench of the sewers assaulted her nose from up close, "We're back on proper ground!"  
  
"Sure," Vincent shook his head, "You do realize we're going to have a lot of fun trying to get into HQ like this, don't you?"  
  
"Don't worry," Kyra waved a hand nonchalantly at him, "I have passcards, and those guards at our sector don't bother to check any more."  
  
"That's not a good thing," Triton pointed out, "But perhaps we should find somewhere to stop over for a bit, so we can change and wash up. I certainly don't want to walk around smelling like this any longer than I have to!"  
  
Vincent sighed, "If you don't comment on where I take you, I can show you somewhere where we can do that without anyone making a sound about it."  
  
"After the last place you directed us to," Kyra glared at him, "Why should we go with you?"  
  
"Fine, do as you like," Vincent started walking, "But I am definitely going, and I have the bag with our uniforms in it, so..." he left off, leaving them to follow.  
~  
  
"Uh, Vince," Triton blinked, "I never would have figured you'd even know where to find one of these, much less be able to get in, smelling like you just walked through the sewer without questions."  
  
Vincent snorted, "There's a lot about me you don't know. And no, I don't know about this place because I frequent it for the usual reasons."  
  
"I am only staying in here long enough to shower and change," Kyra groaned as she opened the nearest bathroom door, making sure it was empty, "And then I am leaving!"  
  
After the woman left the room, Triton glanced at Vincent, "Just why do you know these people so well. I honestly didn't even think you'd gone through that part of puberty, much less being on a name basis with an entire brothel!"  
  
"You and Arn have commented enough on how feminine my features are," Vincent growled slightly, "And evidently, a few of the department heads agree. Sometimes, they need someone to infiltrate this place... Guess who got the job."  
  
"But they know your name," Triton paled, "How's that work?"  
  
"I never said I was 'one of the girls' so to speak," Vincent sighed, and stared at a far point on the wall, "Let's just say that I'm here to investigate the customers from a different perspective. Leave it." Vincent growled as Triton prepared another question.  
  
"Uh," Triton paused, "Okay, sure. Um, I bet you don't want this mentioned to Arn either, right?"  
  
"Exactly," Vincent glanced at the other black-haired man, "And if he is told,"  
  
"Yeah," Triton shuddered, "I get it. Believe me, he won't hear anything from me. I remember what your paybacks are like when they're not jokes. I don't ever wanna go through that again."  
  
"Good," Vincent looked at the bathroom door as it opened, with Kyra walking out in a towel.  
  
"I forgot my clothes, and that room is so perfumed," Kyra shook her head, "I almost couldn't tell I'd been in a sewer, it was so overpowering!" she grabbed her uniform and walked back in.  
  
"Did she just do what I think she did?" Triton blinked, his face somehow flushing and paling at the same time.  
  
"I guess," Vincent had just resorted to a blank expression.  
~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I honestly have no clue where this will end, or how long it will take to do so... I'm just as curious as you are. 


	11. Some of the Saddest Days of his life

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 11  
  
  
~Three years later~  
  
The brightly lit room was a security officer's nightmare. The mass of bodies filling the room made it almost impossible to keep an eye on any one person. Though lights glowed in several places along the ceiling, the lighting was still not adequate enough to keep the corners from being near pitch-black havens for any of the less honest sort of guest that might have been privileged enough to attend.  
  
Of course, there were already inhabitants of the corners, watching out for suspicious activity. The four men in dark blue attire were hardly visible to the rest of the party's attendants. Which suited them just fine. They were on the job, not officially present, and if any of them were caught anywhere other than their designated corner, they would certainly wish that their punishment would merely be getting sent to the corner.  
  
The oldest of the four, and the leader of their division of Shinra Incorporated, leaned heavily against the walls he was to keep watch in. On the far side of sixty years, he was in unbelievably good shape, but his health was quickly deteriorating. He fought to keep this knowledge from his subordinates, though his boss knew.  
  
He'd recently learned the cause of his health issues, and though his boss knew something was wrong, the Shinra executive did not know what it was exactly. He was busily trying to figure out whom to name as his successor, but couldn't quite figure out who would best suit the job.  
  
The man in the corner to his left would do fine, as he was the second best of the four at the clerical tasks of filling out reports, and monitoring the cash flow of the departmental division. But he wasn't serious enough to earn or keep the respect of his peers, superiors, or even those whose rank lie below his. He was too much of a prankster, and there was also the fact that no one in Shinra would ever forget his weeklong escapades as a pink TURK three years ago.  
  
To his right, was a more serious version of the first man. Unlike the other, he could not stand the paperwork, but preferred associating with others, and had the respect of many in Shinra Incorporated, not including his two roommates. The problem was, he couldn't do the paperwork, not even when he tried. The division would sink if someone didn't do the paperwork.  
  
And directly opposite him was the third candidate for his position. He was highly skilled at the paperwork, could intimidate people into doing his bidding, and had earned the respect of nearly all those around him. His only problem was honest association. He intimidated people just by being around them. Very few were actually able to speak to him, and he seemed to like it that way.  
  
The older man's musings were so in depth that he didn't notice the two slight men in black approaching him. Nor did he hear the pistol click as its safety was pulled off, and the hammer was pulled. He only knew something was wrong when one of them grabbed him about the throat, and he felt cold metal pressed to his temple.  
  
The partygoers that were close by saw the actions and all of them stopped dancing, which caused a chain reaction along the room. The men in two of the other corners caught glimpses of what was going on, and paled. The third didn't know what was causing all of the panic, and therefore called out on his little radio.  
  
"What's going on?" Vincent's voice piped up over the little device sitting in Uriah's ear.  
  
"Two people have a gun pointed at corner one's head," Triton explained, "They haven't said anything yet, so we have no clue what's going on."  
  
Dragging the old man with them, the two men started toward the platform in the center of the room. Upon reaching its foot, where the Shinra family stood, dressed in their finest, the one not holding the gun called out to them.  
  
"If you don't want this old man's brains all over your clothes and your consciences, then you'll step down your plans for Midgar!"  
  
"He's dying anyway," Shinra bluffed, "So what difference does it make?"  
  
"Fine," the gunman switched the gun from Uriah's head to the small boy on the dais, and quickly squeezed the trigger.  
  
Screams and shouts echoed across the room. Some of the women fainted; others were merely mimicking banshees with their shrill cries. Uriah glanced in the boy's direction, and could just barely make out what had once been a white child's suit, but was now a suit in crimson, scarlet, and so many other shades of red. The old man sighed quietly, that one had been an innocent.  
  
One more gunshot sang through the air. The man holding onto Uriah's throat fell to the ground, taking the older man with him. Uriah quickly disentangled himself from the body, and found himself nose to barrel with another gun. The other man had taken the opportunity of the confusion to aim at their primary target.  
  
The room froze.  
  
"You've seen how serious we are," the man growled, "So do as we say!"  
  
"What's to stop you from shooting him anyway?" Mrs. Shinra spat, "Your kind are not exactly known for their honor!"  
  
A voice sounded next to Uriah's ear, "What are they doing?" Arn was indignant, "Are they trying to get him killed! They're just pissing him off!"  
  
Vincent whispered, "I'm sorry, sir, but you always taught us that when a hostage situation arose,"  
  
The sound of the other two harshly taking in air was Uriah's last warning. He didn't even hear the last bullet in Vincent's gun being fired from its chamber.  
~  
  
  
  
  
  
Um... yeah... didn't see that coming either... Yipes.  
  
  
  
I honestly have no clue where this will end, or how long it will take to do so... I'm just as curious as you are. 


	12. Cold, Winter Wind

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
I realized that I pulled a good one with Arn and Triton... They originally had red and black hair, respectively, and have developed black and brown hair, respectively. The best I can do at this point is claim that the point where he met them, about nine years prior, they were young enough to want to color their hair... So Triton's is naturally brown, and Arn's is normally black.  
  
  
Chapter 12  
  
  
~One year later~  
  
Though Shinra had deemed him worthy of following in Uriah's footsteps, none of the TURKS could bring themselves to respect him quite as much. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he'd stood by as the older man had had a new hole shot into his skull by another of his subordinates. Perhaps it was the fact that until Uriah's death, he'd not been a full-fledged TURK, because he couldn't quite meet the old man's standards for an active TURK. Maybe it was the fact that they sensed something was wrong with him. But most of all, he knew that they had no respect for him because he was almost half the age of the former TURK leader, and yet had less than a quarter of his mobility, stamina, and physical fitness.  
  
Uriah had had no problems with heavy TURKS. His problem had lain with the fact that Heidegger had been particularly stupid. His wife, not only wore the pants in their household, to use a cliché, but she also was the intelligent half of the couple. Yes, he was the only TURK to have ever been married. The other TURKS knew this, and showed at least a minor level of respect for Heidegger's wife, though she could have been a TURK no more than Heidegger should have, as she was as thin as he was heavy.  
  
Heidegger also feared his minions, which was one of his rare acts of intelligence. Then again, who wouldn't be frightened of a man who could walk around for a week in pink and never hear a word of ribbing about it, or a man who could slit your throat with Bowie knives faster than you could blink? For that matter, who wouldn't be afraid of a man who could shoot his boss without blinking, flinching, or even crying later?  
  
So Heidegger did what he did best. He tied them all up in jobs that were next to worthless, and bogged them down with rules and regulations to memorize. He also left them to do their own paper work, which was enough to completely freeze one of them.  
  
"Sir," the tall, black-haired man slipped through the door, followed by another man with black hair, and one with medium brown hair, "You requested our presence?"  
  
The man's very voice sent chills down Heidegger's back, and the overweight man allowed himself a shiver in their presence, "Yes, Vincent, I have a job for you three, direct from Shinra."  
  
"What is it this time," the brunette groaned, "Another body-guarding mission? Or is it some kind of infiltration?"  
  
"Let him explain, Triton," the other black-haired man suggested, "It will go a lot faster than trying to guess for ourselves."  
  
"There are rumors of a group of citizens that live on the lower plate who are dissatisfied with their lots in life," Heidegger began, "Shinra does not like this, so he wants someone to investigate this. That is what you three will be doing. You will go to Sector three and investigate the rumors. Follow wherever they lead you to, even if that means you trace it all the way back to a Shinra employee."  
  
"We will find out what's going on," Arn turned to leave the room, with the other two not far behind, "Sir."  
  
~  
  
"This isn't exactly TURK work," Arn muttered under his breath as he flipped through files rapidly.  
  
"They are orders," Vincent clipped out, while looking at his own stack of files.  
  
"But they are bullshi-" Triton snapped, then froze as a sound outside the office they'd broken into alerted them to another's presence.  
  
The three of them quickly disappeared to various niches in the room. Upon entering, they'd looked about for places to hide, and agreed upon them in case someone else arrived. Vincent dove under the desk, as he was the most slender of them, and could hide under there comfortably. Arn went for the closet, his large frame almost not fitting. Triton ducked to directly behind the door, where one of the file cabinets would provide cover as well as the door.  
  
The door know jerked from side to side, then snapped off completely as the person on the outside got impatient and just busted the knob off. The other person pushed the door open, not even trying to be quiet, and sauntered through the door. The three TURKS in the room held their breath to ensure that they made no sounds.  
  
The newest person to enter the room headed straight for the filing cabinet on the opposite side of the room from the door. From his vantage point between the desk and the chair, Vincent could just make out the person's features. A teenage thief had joined them in the office to purloin files. The youth, who appeared to have blonde hair, flipped through the files, then started cursing rapidly and colorfully. He slammed the cabinet door shut and stalked to the one where Triton hid. He flipped through the files in that one as well. After slamming that door shut, he started cursing even more violently, and flopped into the chair directly in front of the closet.  
  
"Dammit!" he growled, "Where the fuck did they hide those damn files!"  
  
Triton quietly pushed the door from the cabinet, making sure that it didn't squeak as he did so. Vincent slowly crawled from under the desk. The teen didn't notice, he was too busy swearing about some files that he'd been told would be there.  
  
"I can't believe I listened to him!" the boy spat, "Now I'm gonna get my ass chewed for his blunder! The asshole told me that I'd find them in the cabinets, and I'd better get them out before the fuckin TURKS got to them! Dammit, he moved them!"  
  
Triton quietly grinned in the darkness, and Arn, standing in the closet doorway, matched him grin for grin. Vincent shook his head, and spoke, "No, you were just too late."  
  
"AH SHIT!" the teen screamed at the top of his lungs, "Who the hell are you!?"  
  
"We are the TURKS you so fondly spoke of," Arn stepped back into the room.  
  
"Holy-" the boy lost his voice, finding himself surrounded by three TURKS, "I am so dead!"  
  
"Well," Vincent spoke again, "I can see one of two things happening, you die, and we leave, or you leave quietly to see the next sunrise, and never even mention this to anyone again."  
  
"Um," the teen squeaked, "I am getting the HELL outta here!"  
  
After the blonde skittered out of the room, Triton snorted, "Going soft, Vince?"  
  
"No," Vincent shook his head, "The boy was set up. The files aren't here, but the person who sent him wanted him to pay the price."  
  
"So how are we going to find them?" Arn asked, quietly looking out the door.  
  
"We follow the teen," Vincent smirked, "I told you two not to sit in that chair because I planted a tracking device in it, and when he sat,"  
  
"He's got it?" Triton laughed, "Well, let's get going!"  
  
~  
  
How's that for the first meeting with Cid? Heh. Yeah, he's a teen at this point, isn't he? Why didn't he remember Vincent? I'm not sure yet, but I'm sure that will be answered.  
  
I honestly have no clue where this will end, or how long it will take to do so... I'm just as curious as you are. 


	13. Dirty mouthed sock!

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
If anyone has been keeping track (looks at previous statement, and realizes how egotistical that must sound) I went somewhere on the 8th of March til the 10th of March, and had no access to internet, so that's why this has taken so long...  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 13  
  
  
As they followed the youth's travel, they recognized the inherent trait of all cities. There was a definite progression from well-tended buildings to the slovenly huts that passed for housing. Or rather the digression. The boy wound his way deeper into the depths of the slums, until he reached a building that shouldn't have been there. It was well-kept, very maintenanced, in the midst of literally hundreds of shacks and shelters made of simple discarded materials. It also stood at least four stories high, with it's roof brushing the bottom of the plate.  
  
All three TURKS noted the strange proximity of the roof to the plate, and decided that they were going to have to trace the problem to an employee of Shinra.  
  
The boy slipped into the building, and the TURKS stopped at the door. It had locked behind him, and they didn't know, offhand, the way to open it.  
  
"Well," Arn grimaced, "Do we pick it, break it, or go around it?"  
  
"It won't do us any good to bust the door down," Triton growled, "But we don't know if we can pick the lock or bypass it either."  
  
"So do we try to find another way in, one that's less guarded or something?" Arn looked up, "Like maybe trying to get in from the roof?"  
  
"Nah," Vincent stood, "While you two were talking, I picked the lock. It wasn't all that difficult."  
  
Triton looked closer at the lock. It was electronic, with numerical keys, alphabetical keys, what appeared to be a timing system, and perhaps even fingerprint reading capabilities, "Uh, sure, I don't want to know how you did it though."  
  
"But I do!" Arn laughed, "That's cool!"  
  
"It's electronic, and happens to also be vulnerable to magnetic influence," Vincent held up a magnet, "This was strong enough to distort that, and this," he also held up a low-energy taser, "shorted the rest of it."  
  
"I'm glad someone has mechanical leanings," Triton muttered under his breath.  
  
"Aw, come on, man, it's not like he has mechanical parts!" Arn snorted, "Though I can say he wouldn't look too bad, I guess, if he had a bionic arm or something."  
  
The three slipped into the building, peering around to watch out for sentries, or anyone else who might walk around the place. Vincent looked at the little device he was using to track the teen, and noted that it had become stationary, "Either he's in one place, or he's found it and left it. We've taken too long."  
  
"Then let's find him!" Triton spat, "We do have to catch the person who sent him to be caught!"  
  
"It says he's right over our heads," Arn looked at the little screen, "Does that mean he's on one of the other floors?"  
  
"No kidding," Vincent rolled his eyes, "We just have to figure out which one of the other three."  
  
"Unless he's on the plate by now," Triton looked at the ceiling.  
  
~  
  
After walking up to the second and third floors, and finding that their target wasn't there, the TURKS started for the fourth floor.  
  
"Why haven't there been any people in here?" Arn shuddered, "Could this be a trap?"  
  
"Why?" Triton snorted, "They don't even know we're here."  
  
"I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about this place," Arn laughed at himself, "Guess that's just a little of my background comin' through. Come from Cosmo Canyon, and you see the spiritual and foreboding part of anything."  
  
"Well," Triton shook his head, "Coming from Midgar itself, I'm a little more inclined to believe it only when I see it."  
  
"Shut up, and let's go," Vincent growled, "I want to get this over with."  
  
They made their way to the location of the marker, and found themselves face-to-panel with a door. The heavy wood was stained almost black. There were no apparent knobs or keypads, which was confusing, as how could anyone get in without a knob or other method of pulling the doors? Arn tried pushing, but as he belatedly noticed, the hinges were on their side, which meant the door opened outward.  
  
"How are we gonna open it?" Trion glared at the door as though that would frighten it into obeying. Strangely enough, the door did open, and the three men stared at it. They then looked at one another with raised eyebrows.  
  
Arn, being the largest of the three, walked in first, with Triton and Vincent following. As soon as all three had crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut.  
  
Looking down at the tracking screen, Vincent noted that they were once again right on top of the marker. He looked up, and cautiously peered around Arn's shoulder, to see the blonde teen standing there.  
  
He was tied into a thickly padded, leather chair that sat behind a black colored, metal desk. The desk, strangely, had no paperwork littered across the top. The walls, likewise, had nothing on them. The room appeared to never be used.  
  
They were spared from the boy's paint-stripping mouth, as he'd had a rather vile-looking sock jammed in it and tied into place. He was looking panic stricken because of the sock, the TURKS, and the man that stood, or rather leaned, against the side of the desk.  
  
"Fenton!" Triton yelped, "We thought you were a decent guy!"  
  
"I am," the tall man replied, "That's why I'm doing this. You TURKS don't realize what Shinra's up to. You don't have a clue that the reason why there are only slums that just get worse as you get further under the plate. You don't,"  
  
"What makes you think we don't?" Vincent had drawn a gun, and pointed it at the older man, "We are TURKS, we work for Shinra, to clean up messes that the rest of the employees don't want to dirty their hands with. We've probably killed more people, more innocent people in a month's work, than you've ever had to. Don't think that what Shinra is doing makes any difference to us."  
  
"What about the boy?" Triton nodded toward the blonde, "Why did you send him to get caught? Why tie him up? Why gag him with the rotting sock?"  
  
"I thought you'd come here after him," Fenton crossed his arms over his chest, "But he got rather violent and vocal when I told him he'd been bait for a trap. He's got a rather foul mouth, so I figured he wouldn't notice if he got a rather foul sock shoved in it."  
  
Reluctantly, the three had to laugh. The boy narrowed his eyes and glared at the older men, then started jerking around in the chair. He also mumbled against the sock for a second, then got a new flavor of grit in his mouth that nearly gagged him.  
  
"You might want to untie him," Arn took one step forward, "At the very least, he's going to get put in the military for his involvement in this."  
  
"Untie him yourself," Fenton stepped away from the desk, "Then you can take him into custody yourself."  
  
Arn approached the chair, and whispered a few words while pointing at the boy. The Materia embedded in his glove glowed, and the activated sleep spell immediately caused the boy to fall slack in the chair. Arn then pulled a thin knife from a pocked in his suit, and sliced the ropes off of the boys wrists, and from around his torso. He also pulled the tie from around his face, and pulled the sock out of his mouth.  
  
"You gonna want this back?" Arn held the disgusting thing out toward Fenton by the tips of his fingers.  
  
"No," Fenton shook his head, "But I suggest you step away from the boy, or you'll both be killed."  
  
"What?" Arn stood and took an involuntary step from the sleeping teen. Upon doing so, he noticed that some of the chemicals in the sock weren't what would usually be found on a dirty sock. In fact, the sock was a little heavier that socks without feet in them usually were. The instant he realized his imminent danger in the combination of combustive chemicals that reacted to oxygen, it set on fire. It caught so fast that the flames jumped to his suit. The big man quickly tossed the sock to the ground and tried to pat out the fire before it got too bad.  
  
"Peel your jacket off you idiot!" Triton walked to his friend, "That'll stop it!"  
  
Fenton quickly pulled a gun from one of his pockets and fired. Triton fell to the ground, a hole in the middle of his back blossoming with the blood spilling onto his jacket and soaking in. Fenton fired again, and Arn fell to the ground, his chest bleeding from a similar hole. Vincent blinked at the first shot, shocked, and at the second, he squeezed the trigger on his gun. Fenton looked down at the hole in his own chest, then at Vincent, "Get the boy out. The building's gonna go up in flames from those chemicals."  
  
Vincent looked at the sock. It's little flame had spread both on the floor and on Arn's arm. Between the two, an entire corner of the room was aflame. Vincent glanced at Fenton again, who had slumped against the wall. Shaking his head, Vincent walked over to the boy and picked him up.  
  
"After all the jokes you guys made about my being able to lift dead weight like nothing else," Vincent hefted the teen over his shoulder and tried the door. It wouldn't budge. He kicked it as hard as he dared with a burden on his shoulder. It stood still.  
  
Growling, he looked over the desk and noticed a trap door on the ceiling. Glancing at the quickly spreading fire, he jumped up on the desk, and set the boy down for a second. He jumped at the ceiling, and couldn't quite reach.  
  
"Dammit!" he hissed, "That's what I figured would be the problem, right with hefting this kid up there!"  
  
He looked around and decided the chair would work as well as anything else. He pulled it up, and settled it on the desk top, making sure not to settle any of the legs on the boy.  
  
The heat started to make him sweat, and it began to blur his vision.  
  
Vincent stood on the chair, and reached for the trap door again. This time he could reach it. He unlatched it, and pulled it downward. There was the bottom of the plate, only a foot above his head. He stepped on the arms of the chair, and balanced himself there, reaching for the trap door that went through the plate. It also unlatched and swung down. Vincent looked down at the room again, and saw that most of it had been swallowed by flames. The desk, on the opposite side as the teen, had also caught fire, and Vincent knew he had to get the boy out quick.  
  
He stepped on the desk, picked the youth up, and then stepped back on the chair's arms. He slapped the boy a bit, to wake him, and then told him, "Don't argue, just grab the sides of the trap door and pull yourself up to the second one. Then grab it's sides, and pull yourself up to the plate."  
  
The boy's eyes widened, noticing the flame, and he nodded. Then he reached up to the sides of the trap door, bracing himself against the chair and Vincent, and pulled up. He wiggled from side to side as he moved his hands upward to the other trap door's sides, and pulled himself up the rest of the way.  
  
As soon as the boy disappeared, Vincent jumped up to grab directly at the higher trap door sides. As he jumped the desk gave way under the tongues of the flames devouring it. He pulled himself up to the plate, and was slightly shocked to feel the teenager's hands helping to yank him.  
  
"What happened?" the boy blinked, looking at the fiery building below them.  
  
Vincent pulled the upper trap door shut, trying to block the flames from the upper half of Midgar, "The sock in your mouth had chemicals that would combust if exposed to oxygen. That's why it was shoved so far into your mouth."  
  
"So why the fuck didn't it light my mouth on fire?" the boy shuddered, "That's one way of getting your mouth cleaned. I sure as hell don't wanna fuckin think about that though."  
  
"I'm not a chemicals specialist," Vincent stood slowly, "Come with me, you're going to be placed in the military. Who knows, you might get into SOLDIER."  
  
"Fuck SOLDIER!" The boy yelled, "I wanna get into the space program!"  
  
"Fine," Vincent glared at the boy, "Then work hard to earn your way into it."  
  
He grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt, and literally dragged him to the nearest recruiter.  
  
The man looked up, "How may I help you sir?"  
  
"This boy is going to be enlisted as punishment for attempted thievery, conspiracy to overthrow Shinra, and having a disgustingly foul mouth," Vincent was only half joking.  
  
"Okay," the man started some paperwork, "I'll need his name, age, height, weight, specific interests, abilities, and family background."  
  
Vincent left the boy to fill out the paperwork for himself. He walked to the nearest payphone and dialed up Heidegger.  
  
"Y'ello? This is the Terminating Underground Retrieval Kabal. How may I help you?"  
  
"Ellone?" Vincent sighed, "Why do you always answer the line like that?"  
  
"Oh, Vinny!" the girl giggled, "You need to talk to Heidegger, right away! He's got reports of Arn and Triton being dead, Fenton having gotten killed, and a building in Sector three of the lower level burning up!"  
  
"That's what I was going to report," Vincent mumbled, "Patch me through."  
  
"'kay," the bubbly receptionist-turned TURK switched the line.  
  
"Vincent?" the gruff voice of the department head grumbled, "How much of what I'm hearing is true?"  
  
"Arn and Triton are dead," Vincent began, "Fenton was the brain behind the situation, and he is also dead. The building that was on fire was his headquarters, and had a trap door linking it to the upper plate."  
  
The heave set man was silent for a minute, "Well, get back to the office. I guess we'll have to turn this in to Shinra."  
  
~  
  
  
  
  
I'm not sure if 'Kabal' really is a word when spelled that way, but it was the only word I could think of that was spelled with that sound...  
  
  
This is getting rather... 'deadly', isn't it?  
  
Is Heidegger head of the military, and Reeve the head of the TURKS? Or is Heidegger in charge of them both? Someone please tell me! 


	14. Hojo's the boss (for now)

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 14  
  
~One year later~  
  
-I hate being the most senior TURK. I really hate it.- Vincent thought to himself as he fought the urge, for the umpteenth time that day, to rip out the throats of his coworkers. The three youngsters were particularly annoying, continually arguing with one another. Vincent could tell that it wouldn't be long before one was killed because the three of them were constantly competing with one another.  
  
The next most senior TURK had joined shortly after Uriah's death two years ago. The kid also happened to be the least mature of the three, ironically. As soon as the others had arrived, he'd pestered them about the fact that he 'ranked' them, and one had immediately returned with the comment, "No, you just smell rank!"  
  
And things had been downhill since then. The only thing that had kept him from saying anything was that he really didn't have the experience. Yes, he'd been a TURK for almost thirteen years, but Arn and Triton had been more experienced as TURKS when he'd joined than he'd had when these infants had shown up. Besides, he just wasn't comfortable with them. Considering what had happened to his last comrades, he just didn't care to get close, as they could die any time as well.  
  
The argument escalated further as he thought, until one of the brats got the brilliant idea of involving 'old sourpuss,' as they called him. Wouldn't you have a sour expression if you had to deal with two sixteen year olds, and a nineteen year old who all acted like they were thirteen years younger?  
  
"Vinny," the only female of the group whined, "They say I can't cut it cause I'm a girl, tell them I can make it, please!"  
  
That was all he could take, "Listen, Cecilia, Roger, Tseng, I'm going to be absolutely honest with you. I don't think any of you can cut it. All you do is argue and whine and complain. I have seen five and six year olds act older! If you don't start acting like TURKS or at least like the sixteen and nineteen year olds you are, you're all going to be killed on your first real missions! Why else do you think I get assigned to the bodyguarding, assassination, and infiltration jobs? Why else do you think that you three keep being assigned all the paperwork and messengerial jobs? Because even HEIDEGGER knows you won't survive, and they can't afford to lose three more TURKS so soon from losing the others that have already been killed!" After he caught his breath, Vincent realized that he'd not only gone on a complete tirade, but he'd also scared the girl, and pissed of the older boy. Thankfully the younger one, Tseng, seemed to be taking the message as it had been meant.  
  
"Who do you think you are, man?" Roger growled, "It's not like you're any better!"  
  
"Step back and think about what you just said Roger," Tseng rolled his eyes, "He has twelve years of experience on all of us, and six years of life on all of us. Better may not be the word, but wiser certainly is."  
  
"Shut up!" Roger glared at the shorter, darker boy, as if daring him to continue to argue.  
  
"Do they really think that about us?" Cecilia whimpered, eyes glittering with tears, and trails of those already shed glistening down her face. She sniffled, and then wailed, "I don't want them to think badly of me! What should I do to make them like me!"  
  
"How in the world did you become a TURK?" Vincent muttered.  
  
"They were that desperate," the head of the scientists giggled as he entered the room, "But I wouldn't mind taking one or two of the children off your hands. I am in dire need of assistants, and as they won't let me take you.."  
  
Vincent shuddered, hoping the creepy old quack didn't see, "I'm sorry, but that's something of a fate worse than death. Anyone in Shinra for any length of time knows what happens to your assistants."  
  
The creepy weirdo hissed, "But that's just a vindictive rumor!"  
  
Vincent shook his head, "Besides, they won't let them go anywhere until there are other candidates for TURKS. Somehow, this department has gotten a reputation almost as bad as yours."  
  
"I don't know," Hojo grinned suddenly, his yellowing teeth showing, "Might it have something to do with your three previous co-workers dying? Or maybe it's the fact that you killed one of them yourself, and left the other two to die in an inferno?"  
  
"So that's the story going around the Corporation," Vincent snorted, "They were dead before the fire even reached conflagration level."  
  
The children's eyes had widened at the first insult, and only got wider with each passing sling. Finally their eyes were wide enough that the whites surrounding their irises were visible on all sides.  
  
"Go back to your lab and torture your assistants," Vincent stalked toward the desk in the middle of the room, "I think they might be getting up to something while you're gone."  
  
"They can't," was all the older man would say, "But really, I am here for a reason."  
  
"Other than to pester the TURKS?" Vincent tossed back, searching through the drawers of the desk for a pen to fill out paperwork with.  
  
"No, to take it a step further," Hojo laughed as Vincent jerked his head up and glared at him with darkened eyes.  
  
"What do you mean," Vincent enunciated each word precisely, to emphasize his seriousness.  
  
"Oh, just that I've got a signed order for the TURKS to assist me in the retrieval of a project, an assistant, and two subjects," Hojo's eyes gleamed in a perverse, twisted kind of joy.  
  
Now Vincent's eyes widened to show the whites all around.  
  
~  
  
I'm going as far as the death of Mrs. Shinra, and where he meets (or perhaps falls in love with) Lucrecia. I'm not sure if those will take place in a year, or a little sooner. I figure there are enough stories out there that detail what happened when Vincent was taken into Hojo's lab that I don't need to too.  
  
Is Heidegger head of the military, and Reeve the head of the TURKS? Or is Heidegger in charge of them both? Someone please tell me! 


	15. Contagious not conflagration

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
I'm going to say that Fort Condor is under Shinra's control. I think they rebelled at one point, but I'm not sure when. I'm also going to make up Lucrecia's last name, as I don't remember what it was.  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 15  
  
Though they were assigned to protect the mad scientist as he traveled to Fort Condor, the four TURKS were more worried about their own safety. Even though he tried to pass it off as no more than a rumor, it was quite true that Hojo went through assistants like children went through their candy.  
  
None of them were even truly protected. The traits that had gotten them picked for TURKS were the very same ones that would fascinate Hojo to no end. In fact, it was Vincent's theory that the only thing keeping half of the TURKS in their job for any length of time was the fact that an attempt to quit or resign would get them sent to Hojo's labs as an assistant, or worse, directly to experimentation.  
  
Shinra had set up several of these checks and balances, like many governments do, to keep his employees in line. He used money to keep people, but when that didn't work, he had no problems with using fear.  
  
Vincent's musings were halted by the train stopping at the end of its track in lower plate Midgar.  
  
"How are we getting there?" Cecilia primly held her arms in front of her body.  
  
"We are being given transportation," Hojo muttered, heading straight for the city limits, "The car is waiting for us. Let us not take any longer than absolutely necessary."  
  
They briskly walked to the dark, low-slung vehicle. Upon climbing in, the three youngsters struggled with who would be forced to sit directly next to Hojo. He solved it by pulling Cecilia next to him with a sneer. Vincent, the one left with driving duties, merely shook his head.  
  
"Uhm, sir?" Tseng stuttered, "H-how are we going to actually reach Fort Condor? I mean, we can't exactly drive there, can we? Won't we have to sail there or something?"  
  
"Ah, yes, you're the one they accepted for his intelligence," the kids couldn't tell if that was a statement or sarcastically said.  
  
"We will drive to Kalm and their harbor, and then take a boat to the shores near the Fort. After that we'll either walk or drive."  
  
"We'll drive to the Fort," Hojo pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and shifted his attention from the blonde Cecilia, to the dark Roger, "Because we'll have others to travel with us. We will also be using a larger vehicle."  
  
"So what's this project?" Roger asked, looking from the window to the greasy-haired doctor.  
  
"None of your business, unless you wish to participate?" Hojo grinned at the teen, then continued, "But my assistant's name is Lucrecia Blight. The subjects are a young, black dragon named Rose, and a little girl raised by a wolf, named Noa. Vincent, you and I will fetch Lucrecia, while these children will collect our subjects."  
  
"What about the project?" Roger seemed almost fixated on the project.  
  
"Lucrecia has it," Hojo suddenly giggled, the eerie sound shocking the three in the back seats with him.  
  
Vincent shuddered. -All we need now is for him to decide to carry out a project on or about unborn children. He's done just about everything else.-  
  
~  
  
Aboard the boat, Hojo immediately stowed away in his cabin, suffering from seasickness. The three teens stayed topside of the boat as long as they could, trying to get fresh air into their lungs. Who knew that scientists would smell of formaldehyde?  
  
The next morning, the teens stared over the railing, again trying to rid their noses of the antiseptic, chemical smell the doctor carried with him. The doctor himself, didn't even emerge from the little cabin, he was too busy trying to keep his stomach in his body.  
  
"I never thought I'd hear a doctor be so unscientific," Tseng glanced toward Cecilia, the only one who'd had her own room.  
  
"It's called being sick," Vincent snorted, "Anyone who's sick is a pitiful attempt at their normal state."  
  
"Even you?" Cecilia looked up at the six-foot tall man from her vantage point of a full foot shorter.  
  
"I haven't been ill since I became a TURK," Vincent's eyes didn't even leave the horizon, "Living in the lower section of Midgar gives you all kinds of immunities. Especially if you live in the slums districts."  
  
"How much longer til we reach the coast?" Roger groaned, "I don't know how much longer I can take that guy's stink!"  
  
"Then you might want to resign from TURKS now," Vincent smirked humorlessly, "Because they only get worse."  
  
"Ugh," Roger groaned again, "I think the old coot's seasickness is conflagration!"  
  
"Um, Roger," Tseng blinked, "I think the word you want is 'contagious,' not 'conflagration.'"  
  
"What's the difference?" Roger snorted.  
  
"Learn the definition of the word you want to use before you use it," Vincent snapped, "It saves you a lot of digging later, because of your idiocy."  
  
The stocky young man waved a hand over his shoulder nonchalantly, "Who cares?"  
  
"I get the feeling this one is doomed before his time," Vincent muttered under his breath.  
  
~  
  
I'm going as far as the death of Mrs. Shinra, and where he meets (or perhaps falls in love with) Lucrecia. I'm not sure if those will take place in a year, or a little sooner. I figure there are enough stories out there that detail what happened when Vincent was taken into Hojo's lab that I don't need to too.  
I tried to find out what Vincent's natural eye color was, but I couldn't find any pictures of him from when he was a TURK. I think they have one of him in Ergheiz, but I couldn't find any sites with pictures of the secret characters... so I'm going to decide his eyes are blue. Yeah, I think this will be important soon, but I'm not sure why. 


	16. Illusions of identity and personality

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
I'm going to say that Fort Condor is under Shinra's control. I think they rebelled at one point, but I'm not sure when. I'm also going to make up Lucrecia's last name, as I don't remember what it was.  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 16  
  
When they reached Fort Condor, Hojo immediately gave the younger TURKS directions to pick up the two subjects. He then lead Vincent to where he had told the girl, Lucrecia, to meet him.  
  
"Are you going to have me pretend to be the cruel doctor again?" Vincent drawled without even looking at the much shorter, greasy old man.  
  
"Have I gotten that predictable?" Hojo giggled.  
  
"Do you really want me to answer that?" Vincent shook his head, "In which case, you'll need to give me a detailed description."  
  
"She's a little taller than I am, with brown hair, and blue-green eyes," Hojo pushed his goggle-like glasses up farther on his nose, "That's all I can gather from her photograph."  
  
"That's so helpful," Vincent rolled his eyes from behind the sunglasses he wore, "Did you bring a cardboard sign that says her name?"  
  
"How did you know?" Hojo blinked in shock.  
  
"It's typical," Vincent looked around, and then muttered under his breath, "for you at least."  
  
"Ah," Hojo had pulled a gaudy neon pink sign from a pocket, and held it up with a flourish, "Found it!"  
  
"If I didn't know better, old man," Vincent finally glanced at the scientist, "I'd think you had some feelings for your assistant even before you've met her."  
  
"Her resume was glowing," Hojo seemed a little too happy in a manner just a little to strange for Vincent's comfort, so the taller man edged subtly away, "Her degrees are astounding, her writings are brilliant, and her preliminary questions are enlightening!"  
  
Vincent laughed slightly, "You have got to be the only man in the world genuinely turned on by nothing more than a brain!"  
  
"Looks will fade, and their judgment vary over time, but intelligence is forever," Hojo glared shortly at the younger man.  
  
"Now you sound like one of those corny jewelry commercials," Vincent snorted, and then pointed toward a medium-height, brown-haired female with glasses perched on her nose, and a white jacket tossed over one arm, "Is that her?"  
  
"Why yes, I do believe so!" Hojo held the sign up higher into the air, and waved it a bit. The woman noticed the garish pink, read the sign, and giggled slightly. She then made her way to the two men.  
  
"Hello, my name is Lucrecia Alders, and I assume you are Doctor Hojo Walsh," she held her hand out to Vincent, who blinked. Why did she assume that the man in the suit was the one with the doctorate?  
  
Hojo quietly elbowed Vincent in the ribs, "Yes ma'am, he's the Doctor."  
  
Vincent rolled his eyes and turned away, "Let's go."  
  
The two followed him quietly.  
  
~  
  
They waited at the transport for the other TURKS, and the subjects. Hojo quickly ushered his new assistant into the vehicle, and then turned to Vincent, "I'll need you to inform the other three of the plan."  
  
Vincent sighed under his breath, "Fine. Just get in the car."  
  
"Fine," Hojo grinned, "I'll... get to know Miss Alders a little better."  
  
Vincent shuddered at the old man's glee.  
  
When the other three arrived, they walked with the two subjects, amicably enough. As they reached the vehicle, the two subjects flinched at the sight of the solemn man.  
  
The dragon hissed, smoke slowly curling from her mouth, as the little wolf-girl just growled.  
  
"Hey, cut it out!" Roger snapped, "This is Vincent, he's not the doctor!"  
  
Immediately the creatures relaxed, but they continued to peer at him nervously. Vincent sighed, and then stepped away from the transport to open the back half for the young dragon and the wolf-girl, "You two will ride back here. Of all of us, you are actually the safest for now."  
  
The two climbed into the large structure, and then settled themselves as Vincent closed and locked the door. He then turned to the other three, and filled them in on Hojo's plan.  
  
"He's informed the assistant that I am Hojo, so you three will have to play along," Vincent sucked in a deep breath, "It also means that you will be driving this time, Roger, so don't get us all killed!"  
  
Roger dashed to the front of the car as the other two climbed in. The vehicle's motor started up as Vincent himself slipped into it.  
  
His eyes adjusted quickly to the darker interior, and he saw the strangest thing. It appeared that Miss Alder had a thing for older men. Even if they were greasy. Vincent shuddered heavily, masking it with a cough.  
  
"Are you alright doc?" Cecilia asked solicitously, already getting into the part.  
  
"Fine," Vincent clipped out, "Just a bad dust build up."  
  
"You should test yourself for allergies," Lucrecia had the nerve to scold him.  
  
"It is not allergies Miss Alder," Vincent snapped, "But dust collecting in my lungs. Anyone can and will cough if they have enough dust in their lungs."  
  
"Or they'll sneeze," Tseng offered helpfully.  
  
"Congratulations for figuring that out TURK," the woman didn't seem to like TURKS much.  
  
"We will reach the coast soon, so be prepared for a ride overseas," Vincent muttered, "Then tomorrow, we should reach Kalm, and be back in Midgar by late afternoon."  
  
~  
  
I'm going as far as the death of Mrs. Shinra, and perhaps where he falls in love with Lucrecia. I'm not sure if those will take place in a year, or a little sooner. I figure there are enough stories out there that detail what happened when Vincent was taken into Hojo's lab that I don't need to too.  
I tried to find out what Vincent's natural eye color was, but I couldn't find any pictures of him from when he was a TURK. I think they have one of him in Ergheiz, but I couldn't find any sites with pictures of the secret characters... so I'm going to decide his eyes are blue. Yeah, I think this will be important soon, but I'm not sure why. 


	17. Why the TURKS?

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 17  
  
When they reached Midgar, Lucrecia's eyes opened wide as saucers, and she stared at the structure.  
  
"There have to be supportive beam structures," she gasped, "There is no way that a plate that big could be suspended like that without support!"  
  
"There are pillars that separate the lower half of the city into eight sectors," Tseng walked toward the back of the vehicle, and released the two subjects. They promptly bounded out and then stared at the city in front of them in amazement. Lucrecia again had eyes the size of marbles at the sight of the two.  
  
"They are delightful!" she giggled, "Amazing! I can't believe they aren't damaged!"  
  
"You're really dedicated to your work," Cecilia glanced at the taller, older woman out of the corner of her eye, "Aren't you?"  
  
"Let's get going," Vincent started off, "We have a train to catch."  
  
~  
  
Loading the young dragon and the girl, the six people found, was easy. It was the trip to the upper plate that was hard. The young dragon threw a fit, and the girl wouldn't stop crying, so Roger and Tseng both were recruited to calm the fire-breathing, reptilian, lonely child. And Cecilia kept the little girl from crying. Which left Vincent alone with the doctor and his assistant, who thought he was the doctor.  
  
Vincent leaned against the seat, and tried to catch up on the sleep he'd missed because of the mission. But the woman kept pestering him about the project she'd been hired for. Vincent had no clue, so he kept telling her that it was handled by 'his coworker,' and glaring at Hojo.  
  
Finally, Vincent stood, "Excuse me, I need to check on the subjects."  
  
He walked out of the train car, and as the door closed, he leaned against it, and sagged to the floor. He scooted over to a corner, and curled up for a little more sleep, telling himself to wake up in half an hour.  
  
While he slept, the door slid open again, and Lucrecia peered through. She didn't spot the dark-haired man, and began to creep her way to the other side of the train car. Since she was trying to be quiet, Vincent could hear her, especially since she wasn't trained.  
  
"What are you doing?" he clipped out. She jumped and whirled, "I don't see any reason for you to be going back there."  
  
"I thought you were back there," she walked back towards him, "Why aren't you there."  
  
"Some of us can't sleep when the wall next to their head is pounding like there is something being pushed against it repeatedly," Vincent glared at her.  
  
She sheepishly giggled, "Well, I had a hard time getting comfortable last night."  
  
"It sounded like you were comfortable enough," Vincent snorted and stood, "But not alone," he glared, "I don't care what you do, I just don't want to hear it. Got that?"  
  
"Fine," she muttered.  
  
"Now what were you after?" Vincent leaned heavily against the wall.  
  
"I was curious as to how you had planned to carry out the project," she looked up at him.  
  
"I don't know," Vincent shook his head, incredibly annoyed with her persistence, "I'm just acting in an advisorial capacity."  
  
"You're not really Hojo, are you?" she seemed proud of herself for her deduction.  
  
"No shit Sherlock!" he growled, "It sure took you long enough to pick up on it!"  
  
"You two were testing me?!" she yelped.  
  
"Of course," Hojo stepped through the door, and then giggled, "I test all of my potential assistants. You did better than most, but not as well as I had expected."  
  
"He's a lot smarter than I thought TURKS should be," she glared at Vincent, as though it were his fault.  
  
"TURKS are not the crap that won't fit anywhere else," Vincent snorted, "We're actually elite. We can stand up to SOLDIERS if Hasted, and we're taught to be as intelligent as the scientists' assistants, at the very least. Basically, we can pull duty for anyone in Shinra, if we have to."  
  
"Oh," she blinked rapidly, "Well that changes things considerably. But if you can join SOLDIER, and can act as scientists, why don't you?"  
  
"Because for some reason or another, we don't want to," Vincent pushed away from the wall, "or we have a skill that the other two don't have preparations for. Like how many scientists are comfortable with the thought of their coworkers being able to unleash the fullest potential of the Materia they work with? That's what Cecilia can do. Roger can operate any machine, with or without electricity. Tseng just hates swords and needles, and I embarrassed SOLDIERS of all classes, and don't trust Hojo any further than I can throw boulders!"  
  
"You almost sound as though you would make better subjects than doctors anyway," she muttered.  
  
"That's the other reason," Vincent glared at Hojo, "They actually would prefer to have us as subjects and experiments. But, as TURKS, we're too valuable to just toss to them."  
  
"Let us return to our seats," Hojo grinned, "We have almost arrived.  
  
~  
  
I'm going as far as the death of Mrs. Shinra, and perhaps where he falls in love with Lucrecia. I'm not sure if those will take place in a year, or a little sooner. I figure there are enough stories out there that detail what happened when Vincent was taken into Hojo's lab that I don't need to too.  
I tried to find out what Vincent's natural eye color was, but I couldn't find any pictures of him from when he was a TURK. I think they have one of him in Ergheiz, but I couldn't find any sites with pictures of the secret characters... so I'm going to decide his eyes are blue. Yeah, I think this will be important soon, but I'm not sure why. 


	18. Bittersweet Discoveries

I don't own these people, and considering all the others who want to, I'm not even gonna think about trying to change that.  
  
  
  
Yeah, I know I'm jumping a bit, but I don't even want to think about how many chapters I'd wind up with if I tried to cover each year...  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 18  
  
~One year later~  
  
"Do we really have to do this?" Cecilia groaned, "Why are we necessary to this operation?"  
  
"Because they've got Vince guarding the Shinra's," Roger muttered, "and Tseng is still in the infirmary from his last mission"  
  
"So that leaves us to take care of the scientists?" the blonde woman muttered, "How did we get cursed like that?"  
  
"Who knows," Roger shook his head. They continued down the hallway.  
  
"It's nice to see you," the woman greeting them was one of Hojo's assistants. They'd met her a year ago, and since then, almost all of the TURK'S dealings with the science department had been conducted by Vincent. None of the TURKS could figure out why Heidegger wanted it that way, so they just went along with it.  
  
Cecilia only just barely remembered the woman's name, "Hello Lucrecia, the last year seems to have served you well."  
  
"Where are the other two TURKS?" the woman looked around for them.  
  
"One is in the medwing," Roger replied, "And the other is in charge of watching out for the Shinras in their little party."  
  
"I'm rather surprised they've only got him watching this time," Lucrecia stepped from the doorway, "After all, the last time they had one of these, they had four TURKS, and the family lost their son."  
  
"Well," Cecilia smiled brightly, "This time, they've got Vincent, and a whole bunch of SOLDIERS in civilian clothing, and they're celebrating the birth of their newborn son, Rufus!"  
  
"Oh, they had a little one?" the woman seemed to fade out slightly, "I wish I could. But that's beside the point."  
  
"Are we ready?" Hojo walked out of the lab and stood as though he expected a reaction.  
  
"What are we doing?" Roger blinked.  
  
"We have a group of specimen to collect," the doctor started down the hall. Lucrecia followed him quickly, and the two young TURKS followed at the end.  
  
~  
  
Vincent had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach the instant he'd gotten word from Heidegger that the president and his wife intended to celebrate the birth of their little boy. It had only gotten worse when he heard that he would be the only TURK assigned to the gala, and that more than a dozen SOLDIERS would be in attendance as well.  
  
As far as Shinra was concerned, his wife was doing him no good. Since their first son, Oberon, had been killed, she'd gotten to the point of doing nothing. When something was put in front of her, she would sign it blindly, and if she were told to do something, she would do it without asking any questions. Although she had started to cheer up after she and her husband found out she was pregnant, it was too late to do anything about it. So the rumors had flown all through the corporation that Shinra intended to do something about her.  
  
What better time than when she joyously and proudly displayed her son?  
  
Fortunately, the boy would only be on show for the first half hour of the party, and then a nurse would take him to his room for the night. Vincent hoped the little one would be able to have some fond memories of his mother, even though he was less than a month old.  
  
All the same, Vincent stood alert behind and off to the left of Mrs. Shinra. He was almost certain that he would no longer have a job in the corporation after this night. Out of the corner of his eye, Vincent saw the nurse approach, carrying the tiny baby in her arms gently. She handed him over to his mother, and Kyra cuddled him sweetly. Any females in the crowd before the dais cooed. Shinra held his arms out to his wife, silently demanding his son. She reluctantly handed him over, with tears in her eyes.  
  
Vincent froze. Evidently, even Kyra had heard the rumors. He thought of stepping forward, but it would do no good until he saw proof of a sniper. It would only panic the crowd needlessly, and then he'd really lose his job.  
  
Vincent glanced around the room, checking for the SOLDIERS scattered throughout. He'd gotten a list of all their names, and memorized the faces that matched. He glanced again, since he knew one of them was missing. He looked in all of the corners, and then finally spotted him. Or at least Vincent spotted the SOLDIER'S eyes behind the barrel of a rifle. The man closed them briefly in a show of respect to Vincent, and Vincent blinked in return as the man's eyes opened. Even though they hadn't always been on the best of terms, Ruvel and he had at least earned each other's respect.  
  
Vincent began to move forward, in an effort to shield Kyra's body with his own. His eyes opened wide, and his mouth gaped as well when the bullet that Ruvel fired hit him square in the right shoulder. As he fell, Vincent realized that even if she was a target, they knew to take out her guard. Then blessed blackness smothered the pain of his wound and discovery.  
  
~  
  
"This is a wild goose chase!" Cecilia yelled, "Why in the world are we wasting our time here!?"  
  
"Because you are under orders to," Hojo grinned.  
  
"It's just gonna get Vincent killed!" Roger growled, "We have to get back to Midgar so that we can stop them!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Lucrecia shook her head silently, readying her tranquilizer darts, "But actually, this is the only way to keep him alive. He has shown too much defiance, and Shinra wants him taught a lesson. He was more inclined to flat out killing him."  
  
"But I convinced the president to turn the boy over to me," Hojo giggled maniacally, "After all, it was Kyra's intervention in the first place that kept me from getting my hands on him fourteen years ago!"  
  
"Why are you doing this, Lucrecia?" Cecilia glared at the other woman, "Are you that obsessed with science that you'll take the life of a man who obviously didn't want to be some scientist's toy!?"  
  
"I'm doing this because I am his friend!" the brown haired woman cried as she loaded the dart into the small gun, "I learned a lot from him, and he's one of the best friends I've ever had, but he made the mistake of telling me he loved me."  
  
"So you're going to perform experiments on him?" Roger spat, "You're even more disgusting than I thought!"  
  
"Oh, no my dears," Hojo giggled some more, "He would have been all right if he hadn't said it within MY hearing! She's mine, and I don't share. Not with anyone!"  
  
"So what are you going to do with him?" Cecilia brushed tears from her eyes.  
  
"I'm not completely certain yet," Hojo nodded, "But I do have four monster samples that I want to investigate human reactions to."  
  
Lucrecia pulled the trigger of the gun, firing the first dart. With a soft thunk, it dug into Roger's back, and the quick-acting drug knocked him down almost immediately.  
  
"But you're going to let him live, right?" Cecilia glared at the doctor.  
  
"Don't worry about him," Lucrecia sighed, as she fired the second dart into Cecilia's back, "He and my baby will be all right."  
  
~  
  
Guess his eye color didn't matter after all...  
  
Whoa, that was callous. Um,.. that's the end, folks. You all know already what happened next. 


End file.
